Pity the Children
by xiaou-xijiang
Summary: The sale and exploitation of children is a booming business within the darkest corners of the galaxy. How will Kirk cope when the victim is one of his own crew? Please heed the rating. warnings inside. deaged!Spock, pre-K/S. Response to a prompt on lj
1. The Child

**Title: **Pity the Children

**Author: **xiaou-xijiang

**Warnings: **violence against children, mentions of rape, slavery, language

**Summary: **The sale of children is a booming business within the darkest corners of the galaxy. How will Kirk cope when the victim is one of his own? deaged!Spock, pre-K/S. Response to a prompt on lj.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own.

* * *

**Part One: The Child **

"All right, place your bets, place your bets!" the Auctioneer was a short, fat waddling alien, with three eyes and no nose. His mouth opened in a salacious grin, ear to ear, showing off two rows of razor sharp teeth.

He waved his hand in a grand gesture towards the cage on the platform behind him. A naked boy sat huddled behind the energy bars, knees pulled up to his chest and face buried in his arms.

"Very _rare_ specimen, gentlemen! A genuine _Vulcan_!" the auctioneer preened under the shocked silence. After the destruction of Vulcan a year ago, Vulcan slaves have been almost impossible to find, children even more so. _I'm gonna be so rich._

"One of a kind, the only half-breed this side of the galaxy! You get the best of both worlds. The exotic Vulcan to sate any desire, and the unpredictable human to…keep you on your _toes_."

Laughter, in the glow of the synthetic lights of the auction house, the auctioneer could clearly see the growing interest in his patrons. He motioned towards the stagehand. Time to raise the stakes.

The stagehand pressed a button on his belt and released the energy field of the cage. The half-breed started and struggled a bit as he was dragged to stand before the audience.

"A young one, but sturdy. Age seven and a half, weighing 90 lbs."

The boy was shaking so hard his chains were clanking together most unpleasantly and his beautiful white knees were knocking together. The auctioneer took out his pointer stick and indicated his ears. The boy's whole body flinched away from it.

"Pointed ears, common to every Vulcan." The pointer whipped against the boys wet cheeks and he whimpered. The crowd purred with delight. "Freckles. Uncommon among Vulcans, a benefit of his human blood."

He pointed to the child's genitals. "Completely clean and virginal. No need to worry where this one's been." The auctioneer winked and drank in the reek of assorted pheromones and lust hanging in the air. _Today is gonna be a good day._

"A half-breed child, easily broken of his icy Vulcan façade. Don't worry, gentlemen. It won't take much to make this one cry."

The crowd cheered as the auctioneer spread his arms wide. "Now, lets start the bidding!"

The child wept.

* * *

"Just this way, sirs, I can assure you that you will not be disappointed by your purchase, grade 'A' breed this one is," the auctioneer prattled on as he led his top buyers towards the holding cell.

A strange couple these two were, they'd just made the greatest buy possible in this quadrant of the galaxy and they didn't seem very happy about it all.

_Ah well,_ he thought, _not everyone has an eye for greatness. A shame such a priceless commodity should be wasted on these two._

One was blonde, and, as far as he can tell, very handsome. He was hardly a good judge on human men, but he would bet his winnings that there were no other set of eyes that particular shade of blue. They were practically _electrifying_.

The auctioneer shuddered under the man's gaze and waved the guards from the entrance to the holding area.

"You must forgive the security measures, gentlemen. We collect specimens from all over the galaxy. Some are very rare, all in good quality and very expensive."

The second one snorted disdainfully but quieted under the first's heavy stare.

_So that's how it is, eh? The blue-eyed creature must keep this one in line._ The auctioneer licked his lips as the man brushed past him. _Many of my clients would love to break him, its a shame he's so old._

The men stopped just inside of the holding area. The auctioneer took his place up front and spread his hands wide.

"Welcome to the heart of my industry, gentlemen."

Cages filled the basement and the children shrank away from the newcomers, curling around each other. .

"My _god_," The second one whispered, mouth hanging open as he took in the myriad cages lining the walls.

The auctioneer preened. "Yes, quite spectacular isn't it? I have specimens from almost two hundred species here, all children, from ages two to fourteen." He pointed towards the cage of_ Andorians._

"I keep them all together, these _Andorians_ took me forever to collect. There are over 30 races to the species, you know. But as a result I have a wider variety ready for my clientele."

He motioned them forward to the last cell on the right. "And here we are, gentlemen, number 1457."

The Vulcan boy was huddled in the far corner of the cage, the plate of food left for him was auctioneer frowned but turned to his customers. "We've had a bit of a time with this one. Refuses to eat anything, just sits there and cries."

"Has he been hurt?" The first stood as close to the energy field as he dared, hands just sort of touching the rippling bars. The boy didn't turn.

An odd question, most didn't bother asking. The auctioneer chose his words carefully.

"We had some trouble with him in the beginning, hated being left alone in there. Can't be helped, you see, he's our only Vulcan." He shrugged. "Took some time to beat him out of it, but don't worry, we've had our healers get him into tip top shape for your enjoyment."

The second one shot him a dirty glare.

The auctioneer cleared his throat. "So how will you be paying gentlemen? Separate? Or will you be, ahrm, _sharing_?" The alien gave a dirty squeal of a laugh before banging noisily on the cage's datapad.

"Come on, pretty. Say hello to your new daddies!" The Vulcan child glanced back, eyes meeting the blue-eyed man's. Recognition sparked. The boy cried out and reached for him.

"Well, look at that." The auctioneer frowned. "Its almost like he knows you." He turned towards his customer and found himself staring down the end of a phaser.

"That's because he does, asshole." Blue eyes held his gaze and he gestured towards the data pad. "Open the cage."

The auctioneer held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Gentlemen, please, there's no need for violence—"

"Do it now, or I will blow your brains out and rip it open myself, I swear to_ God_."

He pushed the auctioneer towards the datapad and watched him punch in the key.

"Bones," he threw over his shoulder. "How is he?"

The second one—Bones—whipped out a tricorder and scanned the boy as the cage's energy field fizzled out.

"Severely dehydrated and malnourished. I'll need to get him back to the ship to do a more thorough examination." He moved into the cage and caught the child when he stumbled, out cold.

"Damn it all, we need to get back to the ship." Bones pulled out a hypospray and pressed it to the boy's neck.

The phaser pressed deeper into his cheek and the auctioneer trembled. The man smirked.

"Smile, _pretty_, you're_ mine_."

A fist whipped out like a shot and the auctioneer was on the floor, bleeding. The man grabbed him by the shirt and punched him again. His teeth went straight through his lip.

"Jim, we have to go!"

The auctioneer's gaze blurred at the edges as he gurgled helplessly around his own blood. The only thing he could see beyond the pain were the man's eyes—burning blue stars of righteous fury.

He kept a firm grip on the auctioneer's shirt as he whipped out his communicator.

"Scotty, beam us up!"

_to be continued. _

* * *

a/n - and that's the first chapter of my ongoing project. I'll probably be updating with a chapter every week if I can.

-xiaou


	2. Crux

**Title: **Pity the Children

**Author: **xiaou-xijiang

**Warnings: **violence against children, mentions of rape, slavery, language

**Summary: **The sale of children is a booming business within the darkest corners of the galaxy. How will Kirk cope when the victim is one of his own? deaged!Spock, pre-K/S. Response to a prompt on lj.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own.

* * *

**Part Two: Crux **

Kirk was moving as soon as he materialized back on the ship, dragging the auctioneer from the transporter pad. His head cracked against the platform.

"Stiles, Gregory!" Kirk called. Two security officers moved forward, taking the woozy alien from the captain's hands. "Throw him in the brig, I don't care if he's dying: no one in, the shit doesn't come out."

Stiles took one arm and Gregory took the other. The auctioneer stumbled to his feet, able to do nothing but mumble a protest as he was dragged away.

Bones stepped off the platform, Spock cradled in his arms. "Jim," he whispered urgently. Kirk turned to him and Bones swallowed at the fury in his eyes, shifting the boy's weight higher against his chest. "Med Bay is prepped and waiting, but there's no way we can hold all those children. We _need _reinforcement."

Kirk gave a sharp nod, gaze never moving from Bones' face. "Go." Bones hesitated before hurrying to med bay.

"Got the coordinates, Captain. How many parties?" Kirk turned to Scotty.

"There are hundreds of captives, Scott. We'll need at least six teams—two medical and four security. Lt. Cardy,"

The security officer straightened. "Sir!"

"Set up the teams, bring up the captives in shifts, first team will beam down in three minutes."

"Aye, sir."

"Scotty, with me."

Kirk strode out of the room, the Scotsman struggling to keep up. He felt a hot anger that burned cold in his gut, adrenaline pumping. Officers running through the halls stopped to salute as he passed.

"Sulu's team back yet?" _Don't think about him, don't think about him, I'm gonna loose it if I do. _

"Aye, sir. The raid of the auction house was successful, thirteen arrested, sir."

Kirk stopped and turned on Scotty, a rock in the sea of passing crewmen. "Are you fucking kidding me? There were over forty people in that shithole, _where the fuck _did they go?!"

Scotty met his captain's furious eyes with steely determination. "Ensign Fardigan found logs and receipt chips in the raid, recordings of every transaction for the past five years. Heavily censored and restricted, but nothing we can't crack. No one is getting away with this."

Kirk swore and pressed the keypad for the turbo lift. "I want them to burn, Scotty. _Shit." _He pressed the keypad again. "I want to burn that place to the ground. Who the fuck are they to do this to anyone, let alone kids?" He punched the keypad furiously. "And why the fuck is this so slow!?"

Scotty pushed the Captain away and punched in a different code. The lift opened and Kirk strode in, barely waiting for the engineer to get in before closing the doors. He paced the turbo lift like a tiger in a cage. Scotty watched him wearily.

"Give me a report, Scotty." _Give me something, anything! _

"Lt. Sulu handled the raid professionally and efficiently. No casualties or injuries reported. He beamed up just two minutes before you, the prisoners caged in the brig."

"Fine. How are we in communications?"

"Uhura has been commanding her team in contacting our reinforcements. It may be awhile, Captain."

"_Shit."_

"Aye, sir."

The lift opened and Kirk stepped onto the bridge. Every station was occupied, officers communicating rapidly with vid screens and audio frequencies.

"Captain!" Kirk strode to Uhura. She looked up at him with tired eyes, taking her earpiece out as she paused in her conversation. "Captain. Is he—"

Kirk tried not to resent her for her obvious concern, but his stomach was in his throat, his blood was racing and he was _so damn close to loosing it. _

"Lt. _report_."

Uhura looked taken aback at his stone faced expression, soul-bright eyes sweeping him from head to toe. She opened her mouth but thought better of it and replaced her earpiece.

"Contacted three embassies, Captain. I've got my team working on contacting the other nations of the abducted children. The flagship, _Cariot, _has plotted a course of our location. They won't be here for two days. Starfleet is waiting for your report, sir. "

Kirk snorted. "That's the last thing on my mind at the moment."

He placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. It trembled slightly under his fingertips, but he had no comfort to give. Not yet.

"Keep communications open, Lt. I'll be downstairs questioning the prisoners." He turned to Scotty. "You have the conn."

The engineer was already at the Captain's Chair, mediating the reports from the communication officers. He waved the captain impatiently away.

* * *

Med Bay was filling up; the teams were fast and efficient. Medical personnel rushed from one bed to the other. Kirk stood, watching his people work.

To the left was a girl, maybe four years old, of the _Si'dorein_ race. She was wrapped in a standard issue blanket, but her little stick-like legs were littered with yellow and green bruises. He turned to another bed. A boy lay under the care of two nurses. One pressed an oxygen mask to his face, the other mending a broken collarbone.

Kirk watched as tears slipped from the boy's eyes, body straining up from the pain.

The captain felt a weight on the back of his neck, he turned back and saw the girl watching him with sad, knowing eyes. She held an oxygen mask to her face, breathing softly. _In and out. _

Kirk could do nothing to stop the sadness that pierced the fog of anger. _Too late, we're always too damn late. _

"Jim." Bones appeared behind him. The man placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. His fingers were warmth and comfort and familiar, and Kirk shrugged it off. It wasn't what he needed, especially not now.

"How are we doing Bones?" Bones pierced him with a sharp glare, two blue laser beams sinking through the Captain's armor. If he saw the cracks he didn't say anything.

The doctor sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Specks of blood stained his blue uniform. "We're getting more children by minute, we'll have to start putting two to a bed soon, then we'll have to branch out into the guest quarters. Supplies are holding, but they won't last for long."

Bones cracked a sardonic smile. "But that's not why you came down here, is it?" Kirk said nothing as he turned his back, ready to leave.

"He's fine you know." Kirk stiffened. " Well—shit, I don't think anyone will be fine after today, but he'll live. A few fractured bones, severe dehydration and malnutrition, all easily fixed." Bones crossed his arms. "I had to sedate him, he was hysterical trying to get to you."

Kirk turned and leveled Bones with a heavy stare. The doctor inhaled sharply. Before Kirk's eyes shown bright with hot anger, in the hour since he's seen him, his eyes had iced over in cold fury.

Kirk swore. The image of Spock, all skinny legs and pointy elbows, huddled in that putrid cage flashed in his mind.

"I can't Bones. I can't _see _him right now. I need to take care of my ship." _If I see him I'm gonna break. _

Bones gave him a hard stare. "Why are you here, Jim?"

"I had to see them."

Kirk looked back to _Si'dorein_ girl. Her eyes were closed, head sinking low unto her chest. Her fingers clutched the blanket closer to her shoulders. Her breath clouded the oxygen mask. It cleared as she inhaled.

"I needed to see what he did to these _children. _He showed them no mercy and he's sure as hell not getting any from me."

Bones reached into his pocket and shoved the hypospray into Kirk's hand. "Take it. We've got a while before we're back in Federation Space. Make sure the son-of-a-bitch doesn't die before we get there."

* * *

Sulu was standing outside of the auctioneer's prison cell. He'd been the first on the scene, leading the raid on the Auction House as the auctioneer led Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy to the holding area.

The men they'd managed to capture all looked so normal. Most were races common among the quadrant, only one human stood among the bunch. He'd seen their "party favors", two beautiful and bare _Eronians_ barely into puberty. Leashed to the stage by a single golden chain.

They'd looked at him with dead eyes, motionless and impassive to his attempt to set them free. It wasn't until he'd made a quiet inquiry to Nurse Chapel that he realized they were mute, tongues cut away so they wouldn't spill the Auction's secrets.

"Sulu? Is there a problem?"

Sulu turned towards the Captain, shaking his head. The Captain looked tense, anger radiated from him in waves. Sulu took a cautionary step back. There was something dangerous in his eyes, deadly.

The captain stood beside the lieutenant. "How are we on transporting the victims?" Sulu drew the PADD from underneath his arm and handed it to him.

"My report. We have a few more rounds to go. Fifty nine more victims to transport onto the ship." The captain swept an eye over the report, but Sulu knew he wasn't really seeing the words, only the implications.

There were so many, _too many. _

"I'm on the next team, sir. I just wanted to look at the monster that could do such a thing."

The auctioneer was slumped against the wall, arms flopped at his side and legs splayed out in front of him. Dried blood crusted around his mouth and neck, he was breathing heavy, pathetic, gasping, wheezing breaths that echoed loudly in the empty cell.

Sulu chuckled half-heartedly. "Doesn't look like much, does he?"

Kirk didn't smile. "They never do."

* * *

a/n: thanks to all who reviewed. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	3. Judas

**Title: **Pity the Children

**Author: **xiaou-xijiang

**Warnings: **violence against children, mentions of rape, slavery, language

**Summary: **The sale of children is a booming business within the darkest corners of the galaxy. How will Kirk cope when the victim is one of his own? deaged!Spock, pre-K/S. Response to a prompt on lj.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own.

* * *

**Part Three: Judas**

"_Ah, Der'idian, to what do I owe this…pleasant surprise?" From the scowl on the shopkeeper's face, the unexpected visit was anything but pleasant. _

_The Auctioneer smiled pleasantly, showing his razor sharp rows of teeth. "I just happened to be in the quadrant and I thought I'd stop by and see an old friend."_

_The old shopkeeper stiffened, his eye stalks flicking back and forth in agitation. "Don't insult me, Der'idian. You're too far from your rock of a planet to bother with pleasantries." He locked his doors and placed the 'closed' sign in his window. "What do you want?" _

_The Auctioneer shrugged off the shopkeeper's glare and browsed the shop, picking up a jar of Meglorian beetles. _

"_I'm here for business. My clients are getting a little bored with my collection; I've been commandeered to branch out to other quadrants." _

_The shopkeeper was shocked. "Wha-what?" The shopkeeper shuddered. "Are you out of your mind!? This is Federation Space, that's just asking for trouble." _

_The Auctioneer went on. "I heard from a somewhat reliable source that you've recently developed something __**very **__interesting." The shopkeeper's eye stalks twitched."Something to do with a certain drug…ring any bells?" _

"_Now hold on a minute, Der'idian! That drug hasn't even been properly tested on a humanoid yet, you can't possibly expect—"_

_The Auctioneer waved away the shopkeeper's protests. "Oh, stuff it you old wind bag, I just need to know if it __**works.**__"_

"_So far tests have yielded positive results, but—"_

"_Well, then, I think I'll take a batch." _

_The shopkeeper looked alarmed. "You're crazy! Didn't you hear what I said? It's volatile and unpredictable, who knows what'll happen if you use it all willy nilly—" He ignored the Auctioneer's giggle. "Its dangerous. Use it on a humanoid and it may be fatal." _

"_Who says I'm going to use it on humanoid?"_

"_Because I know you, fool!" _

"_Nevertheless, I want it." The Auctioneer's smirk was dreadful. "Besides, you owe me. I've come to collect." _

_The shopkeeper's shoulders slumped. He looked devastated. "Things have been hectic around here, rumors of disappearing children has everybody on their guard. I knew it wouldn't be long before you came to darken my doorstep." He grumbled under his breath. "I should have gone on vacation." _

_The Auctioneer laughed. "Ah, I have missed you, my friend…"_

"_**My**__ friend would have killed himself a thousand times over before even _thinking _of doing what you do, you monster," The shopkeeper snarled. "You are not my friend." _

_The Auctioneer frowned thoughtfully for a moment before his sunny smile returned. "Whatever the case, I want the drug. As much as you can give!" _

_The shopkeeper was shaking. "There's nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?" _

"_None at all." _

"_If I begged? Pleaded?" _

_The Auctioneer smiled pleasantly. "You know what I want, Nugal. I've waited twenty years to cash in this debt, I've finally found something worth it." His eyes were sharp, glossy, and mad. "Give it to me. I won't ask you again." _

_The shopkeeper looked sick, resigned. He turned away, eye stalks never leaving the Auctioneer's smiling face. Shaky fingers punched in a code to the storage room behind the counter. _

"_I wasn't kidding about the rumors," the shopkeeper said, trying to keep a smidgen of normality in his voice despite the nausea spinning in his gut. "You should have been more careful, now the Federation is investigating this quadrant. I've heard rumors of a flagship somewhere abouts." _

_He disappeared into the room. _

_The Auctioneer snorted derisively. "Oh, please. The Federation doesn't scare me." _

_The shopkeeper appeared again, shooting the Auctioneer an unreadable glance. "Don't get cocky, Der'idian." He slapped several vials of bright blue liquid in the Auctioneer's greedy palm. "You wouldn't be the first to underestimate the _Enterprise _and live to regret it." _

_

* * *

_

"Rise and shine, princess." A boot kicked at his leg hard. The Auctioneer groaned. He opened his eyes willing the room to stop spinning. When his vision cleared, he smiled charmingly, knowing exactly how infuriating it was.

"Ah, The Deceiver."

The blue-eyed man bared his teeth in what could have been a smile. "That's rich coming from you."

"What can I say?" The Auctioneer spread his arms wide. "We can always spot our own."

"My name is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise, you are currently being detained in our brig. Your assets and property have been seized by the Federation."

"Ah, Judas!" The Auctioneer cried melodramatically, squeezing his hands over his heart.

Electric blue eyes flashed. The Auctioneer licked a fleck of blood from his lips.

"As a prisoner of the Federation you are presented with certain rights—"

"Then I recognize my right to remain silent and ask for a vid-call to my lawyer."

Kirk struck viciously, boot catching the Auctioneer in the chest. He felt his ribs give under the pressure. The Auctioneer fell back against the bench and Kirk followed, pressing him down with his body, hands wrapped in his collar, eyes so close he was drowning in them.

"Listen to me, _you shit_, you have the right to do whatever the fuck I say when I say it, get me?" He sat back, releasing the Auctioneer. "We're a long way away from Federation Space, dickhead, and here, on this ship, you _belong to me."_

The Auctioneer groaned softly, pain blossoming in his chest. Ribs shifted with every move he made. The Captain crossed his slender legs calmly.

"As a prisoner you are presented with certain rights. As the captain of a ship beyond Federation lines, however, I have the power to act in _anyway _I see fit to ensure the safety of the crew and passengers on this ship." He smirked.

The Auctioneer tried to summon the will to give an answering smile, but his mouth was slowly numbing and his vision was starting to blur. He snorted instead.

"Very well then, Judas. I hope this won't take too long, I'm afraid I may fall unconscious before the end."

"Oh, don't worry," he consoled. "I've got the best doctor in the Federation. He can heal you again, and again, _and again_ if necessary."

The Auctioneer heard the threat and said nothing.

"Now," The Captain began, motioning for another officer to come into the room. He was a huge, hulking, mammoth of a man. The Auctioneer felt the first tendrils of nervousness pervade the pain.

"Officer Ramand will act as your witness, according to Freeman v. Quartog, a prisoner is granted one or more witnesses to protect him or her from unjust—"

"'Injury and coercion', yes, Captain. I'm familiar with the regulation." He spared a side glance to Officer Ramand. "I'm sure Officer Ramand will protect me as he sees fit and to the best of his ability," The Auctioneer said sarcastically.

Ramand graced him with a ruthless grin.

"You seem to know a lot about the penal system, Der'idian." The Auctioneer looked up sharply. "Yes, I know who you are. Der'idian Tch'garlak.," the prisoner winced as the Captain butchered his native name. "Born on the planet of Gohl, Species: Quartarian. Alias: The Auctioneer. Age: 143. Why, Mr. Der'dian,"The Captain crooned, lacing his fingers together. "You're practically _a baby. _You've got a long hard life ahead of you, mister."

"Hardly that, sir, if the numbness in my fingers is any indication." The Auctioneer was loosing feeling in his right arm. _Well, now. That's not good at all. _His breathing was difficult, stuttered.

"Do you know what we recovered from your Auction House, Mr. Der'idian?"

"I can only fathom a guess, Captain," The Auctioneer dryly answered.

Kirk pulled out a PADD. "We found 192 cages filled with 317 prisoners, all ranging from two years old to thirteen. _Children._" He paused. The Auctioneer gave no forthcoming reaction and the Captain continued. "We've recorded over 20 different species at this location."

The captain lowered the PADD and the look he gave the Auctioneer was ugly.

"You are hereby charged with 317 counts of kidnapping, child prostitution, child abuse, unlawful treatment of a child, slavery, assault and battery, torture, and," the Captain's voice dipped to a growl. "The kidnapping of an extremely valuable and accredited Starfleet Officer."

The Auctioneer stiffened.

Kirk ran a finger over his bottom lip thoughtfully. "There are over one thousand planets represented in the Federation. Of the 317 prisoners, _47 _were under our protection. That's 230 other victims not within our jurisdiction, all from nations that aren't as _kind _as we are in our punishments."

The Auctioneer shuddered.

"Do you know what the Si'dorein do to child molesters, mister?" The Captain didn't wait for an answer.

"They present the guilty to the families and perform ritualistic penal and testicular castration. The Mormadians, well, they cut out they perpetrator's eyes, hands, privates, etc. Any part that desecrated a child is mutilated. And then the body is thrown into Mt. Vis'cal and left there to bleed out, die of starvation, or be eaten by animals."

The Captain shrugged casually. "Whatever comes first."

The Auctioneer began to hyperventilate and the Captain paused.

"But that's nothing compared to what _I'm_ going to do to you if you don't answer me truthfully." He leaned closer and the Auctioneer leaned back as far as he could.

The Captain's eyes were as hard as ice, terrifying so close. "What did you do to Commander Spock?"

The Auctioneer coughed, gratified when the Captain leaned back, disgusted. "I have no idea what you are—"

The Captain caught him in a right hook, strong enough to send the Auctioneer's head reeling. When the world stopped spinning, the Auctioneer gave a cursory glance at his "witness". Officer Ramand was steadily looking the other way.

"Don't fuck with me, Der'idian." The Captain dragged the Auctioneer back into a sitting position. "What. Did. You. Do?"

The Auctioneer spit out a tooth, giving the Captain a bloody grin. "Ah, the Vulcan child! His name was Spock? Oh, he never said," The Auctioneer's joviality made the Captain's eye twitch. _Yes, how far can I push you, my blue-eyed Judas? _

"Such a lovely name for a beautiful boy. He was my first you know, well," he corrected. "My first _Vulcan._ He was very clumsy at first, all knock-kneed and nervous. Tried to hide it behind that dreadful, Vulcan mask, but I _knew_."

He shifted his seat; aware of how frighteningly still the captain had gone. "A Vulcan child is still a child. It didn't take much to…_soften _him up. And this one was _half-human_, oh, what a precious boy. The name is perfect for him, _Spock,_" The Auctioneer put as much lust and affection into the name as he could.

The Captain snapped. As quick as a flash he shoved his elbow into the Auctioneer's neck, crushing the larynx. The Auctioneer gagged, but Kirk followed it with punch that sent the alien crashing back into the wall.

Kirk grabbed his neck and shoved him so hard his skull smashed against the wall, leaving a smear of blood.

"_You don't say his name." _The captain's teeth were bared like a rabid beast, eyes sparking blue fire and hatred.

The Auctioneer could admire the Captain for his beauty and strength. The feeling was fleeting, drowned out by the disconcerting sensation of a rib puncturing his lung. His throat was hopelessly crushed and he couldn't breathe. His vision was blackening as he gasped and gagged, choking on the blood that bubbled up his throat.

_Thank you, Captain Kirk. _The Auctioneer felt spiteful glee that the Captain had killed him, and from the widening of those gorgeous blue eyes, the Captain realized it too.

* * *

"_Alright, we'll split up here in town. Officer Spock, you take the west end. Sulu, the north. Fernand, you take the south, and I'll take the east." _

_The Auctioneer hid behind a vendor and spied on the strange group in the middle of the square. The man speaking had his back to him_. _"Remember do not engage, this is investigation __**only**__. Go." The group split, each going in different directions. A man in the blue shirt came straight towards him. _

_A human…? No. _

_Pointed ears, green pallor to his cheeks. A Vulcan. _

_The Auctioneer mouth went dry. The Vulcan passed him without a glance, weaving through the crowds of the market easily. The Auctioneer turned to stare after him. _

_Narrow shoulders, tall, long arms, legs that went on for miles…_perfect. _The Auctioneer slipped his hand in his coat pocket and grasped the vials. _He's absolutely perfect. _The Auctioneer hurried through the crowds, pushing away busy shoppers, hot on the trail of the Vulcan. _

_The Vulcan's stride was quick; the Auctioneer lost him to the crowd several times. He found the Vulcan again twenty minutes later, stopped at a vendor speaking with a very old Argilian woman. The Auctioneer slipped behind him, pretending to browse another booth. _

_He glanced back. The Vulcan had skinny hips, long neck, and glossy black hair. And those ears...The Auctioneer's eyes were fixated on the point at the tip of his ear. He licked his lips. _

"_You have heard the rumors?" The Auctioneer swooned at the velvet voice. _

_The old woman nodded. "Just whispers, mind you, people are afraid to talk around these parts. First time anything like this'd ever happened in these parts, but hardly surprising. The quadrant just over has been facing things like this for years; it's a growing business. Only a matter of time before it bled over here." _

_She pointed to the glowing orb the Vulcan was holding._ "_Are you going to pay for that?" _

_The Vulcan put it down quickly. "You say these disappearances occur frequently?"_

_The woman shrugged. "Well, certainly not here. But I'm a trader, sir, and an old one at that." She cackled. "I've been around the galaxy a couple times. There are some places where this is as predictable as rain season. The demand, sad as it is to say it, is very high. The slave trade is booming." _

_She grabbed a purple bottle and shoved it in the Vulcan's hands. "Take this deary, free of charge. You look dreadfully pale." _

"_I am afraid I must decline." _

_The Auctioneer waited for the man to leave before hurrying to follow. The old woman glared at him suspiciously as he disappeared into the crowd. The Vulcan was just about to walk into the Main Square when the Auctioneer called out. _

"_Sir! Mr. Vulcan, sir!" The Vulcan stopped and turned, walking forward as the Auctioneer beckoned him, parting the crowds. His eyes were _gorgeous_. _

"_Yes, citizen?" The Auctioneer cleared his throat and glanced around nervously. _

"_I couldn't help but overhear….I-I may have some information you could use." He brushed his fingers against the vials in his pockets. _

_The Vulcan's eyes were intense, giving the Auctioneer his full attention. He swallowed eagerly and stuttered something about finding somewhere private. _

_The Auctioneer was hyper aware of the Vulcan trailing behind him. _Oh, what luck, to find the perfect specimen so soon…!_ The Auctioneer turned into an alleyway and leaned against the wall. _

_The Vulcan stood across from him; face impassively quizzical, feet spread apart and hands clasped behind his back. _

_The Auctioneer grasped the vials in a hand and began to spin his lies. "I heard what you said about…disappearances." He swallowed. "My niece has been missing since yesterday morning…she was last seen with my new business colleague…" _

_He squeezed out a sob and stepped closer. The Vulcan stiffened minutely. "She's only twelve sir, he had to have taken her, I just know it…!" He raised his hand from his pocket, vial hidden tightly in his fist. _

_The Vulcan didn't react to the Auctioneer's outburst of faux emotion. "Do you have any evidence to support your accusation?" _

_The Auctioneer stepped closer. "Please you have to believe me!" He flipped the lid off the vial and quick as lightening threw his arms up, ready to toss the liquid in the Vulcan's face. The Vulcan's reflexes were quick and he caught the Auctioneer's wrist before the projectile could leave his fingers. But the vial was open and the shimmering blue liquid splattered all over his face. _

_The Auctioneer wrenched his wrist away from the Vulcan's slack grip, jumping back to avoid the spray. He watched as beautiful brown eyes squeezed shut. The Vulcan coughed, whole body quivering before falling to his knees. The Auctioneer looked on with wide eyes as the Vulcan writhed, teeth clenched to swallow his screams. _

_Steam began to curl around the Vulcan's shoulders, but the Auctioneer could already see the process starting, his skin was rippling wildly, bones and muscle shifting, changing. _

_The process was startling, and frankly more than the Auctioneer's squeamish disposition could take. He turned his head away, but could do nothing to block the Vulcan's gasps and the sick sound of flesh stretching and rippling. _

_It stopped. The Auctioneer gave a small peek, before opening both eyes wide. _

_A child was shaking in the puddle of cloth surrounding him. He blinked owlishly at the Auctioneer. _

My goodness, he's perfect! _The auctioneer was practically salivating at the glimpse of a pale shoulder peeking from beneath the large blue sweater. And freckles! The child had freckles, how precious! _

_Brown eyes practically swallowed the child's face before they narrowed._

"_Sir, I must ask that you administer an antidote immediately, poisoning a Starfleet officer is punishable under article 24.38, section B."_

_The words went clear over the Auctioneer's head, he focused instead on the child's adorable voice and the delicious way his tongue formed the words. _

"_Enough of that, pretty!" He scooped the Vulcan in his arms, ignoring the sluggish hands trying to push him away. "Come to daddy. I'll take good care of you, I promise!"_

_

* * *

_The Auctioneer gasped back into consciousness, coughing up clumps of blood. His chest burned as the broken ribs knit themselves back together. His throat was clear as he gasped in a big gulp of air.

The Captain removed the hypospray from his neck, eyes merciless.

"Oh, no. Don't think you're getting away from me that easy, prick."

* * *

a/n: thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're amazing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. Mercy

**Title: **Pity the Children

**Author: **xiaou-xijiang

**Warnings: **violence against children, mentions of rape, slavery, language

**Summary: **The sale of children is a booming business within the darkest corners of the galaxy. How will Kirk cope when the victim is one of his own? deaged!Spock, pre-K/S. Response to a prompt on lj.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own.

* * *

**Part Four: Mercy**

"Jesus Christ, Jim! You could have at least _tried _to make it look like an accident!"

The Auctioneer looked like a slab of tenderized meat. Most of his teeth were missing but that infuriating smile was still plastered on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kirk said candidly, allowing the presence of his long-time friend to ground him. Bones gave his captain an exasperated glare, before pushing aside two bloody pieces of the Auctioneer's vest to present a very clear imprint of Jim's boot on his chest.

"He fell. On my boot. Honest. Ramand saw him."

"Aye." Ramand gave a solemn nod.

Bones shook his head and bent down to examine the groaning Auctioneer. "Idiots," he muttered under his breath. He pulled out his tricorder and set to work.

Kirk turned to Raman, who straightened to attention immediately. "Talk with Sulu. If he's still planet-side, go to him. Look for vials or cylinders; any drug the creep might have cooked up. It may help us find out exactly what's wrong with…" Kirk cleared his throat. "…First Officer Spock." Ramand gave a stiff salute and exited.

Kirk's shoulders dipped slightly under the weight of bone-deep weariness. He rubbed the heel of his hands into his eye sockets.

"Jim?" Bones placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"How's the shit-hole?" Kirk asked with a sardonic grin. He kept his eyes closed and his back turned.

Bones didn't smile.

"He's gonna feel it for the next _century_. I'm gonna knock him out for the rest of the night—the massive swelling is worrying me."

Kirk made a face and, as if he could see it, Bones rolled his eyes.

"If you want to explain to the parents of those kids why they won't be able to punish the bastard themselves, go right ahead. But I'm not gonna allow a man," Bones spat the word out like it burned, "to die because my Captain's gotten a bit liberal with his interrogation techniques." Kirk turned to his friend and met determined eyes. "No matter what he's done."

A wheezing laugh erupted from the beaten prisoner.

"Oh, my dear Doctor, you shouldn't even bother. He's too far gone to care." The Auctioneer's eyes opened to slits, crusted with blood and swollen twice their size. "Look around you. See the bare, unforgiving cage and the prisoner bloody and broken, huddled in the corner? It's seems a little…_familiar_, don't you think? We're more alike than you realize, Judas." He coughed and smiled sadly, eyes locked with Kirk's. "_No mercy_."

Bones lunged across the brig. "That's quite enough of you." He jabbed a hypospray into his sternum. The prisoner gave a pained whimper that dissolved into a relieved sigh as he slipped again into unconsciousness.

* * *

Bones was a force to be reckoned with. As soon as the Auctioneer slumped back against the bench, the Doctor had taken one look at Kirk's carefully blank mask and frog marched him back to his office.

He pushed his friend into a chair and turned to lock his door. Kirk started at the sharp clink of shot glasses being slammed onto the desk. The doctor was grumbling about "perverts" and "ego-maniacs" as he poured their drinks.

He pushed one to Kirk and downed his own, pouring more and draining it again. Kirk wrapped a hand around the glass but didn't drink. His knuckles were bruised and speckled with blood.

Bones slammed his glass down harder than he'd intended. "Drink. We've both been running for over seventy-two hours with little sleep. We need it."

Kirk did. It burned on the way down, stronger than usual. He coughed and wiped his eyes, Bones smiled proudly.

"Pure whiskey, from my personal stash." He gave Kirk his full glass and took a sip from the bottle. Kirk accepted the glass, rubbing a thumb against his knuckles.

"You can't listen to a damn thing he says, Jim."

"He's right."

"Dammit, Jim!"

"No, Bones. I was going to do it. I was really…. I was really going to kill him." His voice was cold. It grated Bone's ears like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Bones groaned and rubbed his forehead. "That doesn't make you a monster, Jim, that makes you _human. _You don't think I wanted to pump 5 cg of this shit," he twirled a hypospray between his fingers, agitatedly. "into that—that—_thing?_ "

Bones gestured widely with his arm. "The very _thought _that he'd done this to _kids _makes me want to —" Bones stuttered searching for a fitting action, finding none, he settled for taking a long swig of his drink.

Kirk pushed the glass away angrily, sloshing it on his hands.

"I was going to kill him for what he did to _Spock._" Kirk snatched the bottle from Bones' hands and drank deeply.

"I'd want to do the same thing if it'd been you, Jim." Bones said, watching the Captain's jerky movements carefully. "Worse, probably. I'm not as strong as you are."

"Strong, right," Kirk snorted.

Bones placed a hand on Kirk's shoulder, forcing the younger man to meet his eyes.

"The difference between you and him _is_ strength. Only a coward could do what he did. Only a strong man would be able to face such evil and mete justice instead of vengeance."

Bones squeezed. "He's going to die, Jim. For _everything_ he's done. He's the asshole, not you." Kirk gave a dry chuckle. Bones let a small grin slip but continued, soberly: "He's going to die _justly, _and not as a martyr to every other sicko in this galaxy."

Kirk grasped at the doctor's hand blindly. "I hate him, Bones. I _hate _him."

Bones said nothing, but the hand on his shoulder burned compassion. They stayed that way for a moment, before Kirk subtly pulled away and Bones dropped back into his chair.

The doctor leaned his forearms on the desk. "We've got Spock's tox-screen back." Kirk stiffened at his first officer's name. Bones ignored Kirk's obvious discomfort. "He's been drugged."

Kirk nodded. "He said Spock was the only one he'd used it on. He was his "first"," Kirk spat bitterly.

"Jesus," Bones swore. "We need to find out what it is _exactly_, the side-effects could be _disastrous,_ especially on a mind like Spock's."

"He's gotta have vials hidden somewhere in that pit. Sulu is searching for it now."

Bones tapped a finger to his lips. "I can do some tests, find a way to reverse the damn thing."

Kirk hesitated. "Bones…how is he, _really?_"

Bones gave his friend a searching glance. "Definitely signs of severe emotional trauma. He's been beaten—shoddy patch up they did." He paused. "There's no _evidence _of rape but anything could have happened and he isn't talking. You need to see him, no more _bullshit_."

The captain of the _Enterprise _was practically folding under the weight of exhaustion and grief. Bones loved his friend dearly, but he couldn't run away from this.

Not anymore.

"Go. _Please. _If not for your sake, than for his."

* * *

Spock was in his quarters, tucked tightly under drab Vulcan blankets, skin shining alabaster against the dark fabric. He was curled in a tight ball, hands clutching the edges of the blanket, shaking so hard his teeth chattered.

Kirk stepped farther into the room, it was the first time he'd ever breached the Vulcan's private space, the sight of the proud, strong, Commander reduced to the weak, vulnerable, huddling mass of flesh…_sickened _him.

Beyond the beeping of Spock's vital-monitor Kirk could hear the faintest murmurings, too many syllables to be Standard, but the tone was universal all the same.

Fear. Spock was having a nightmare.

Kirk's hands curled into fists, every whimper echoed in the sparse room.

"I sedated him three hours ago." Nurse Chapel stood from her seat, a book in her hand. Kirk hadn't even realized she was there. She stood and placed the book unobtrusively back on the shelf.

"He should wake soon," she whispered, pressing a hand on the boy's shoulder. It flinched away from her.

Kirk's lip curled. "Dismissed," he snarled.

Nurse Chapel didn't seem surprised by his curt tone. She nodded, giving Spock a sad look before leaving, making sure to give Kirk a wide birth.

Chapel turned at the door, a warning on the tip of her tongue for the Captain. She froze. The captain was kneeling at Spock's bedside, hand fitting gently around the curve of the child's skull.

Spock's shoulders sank under the touch, fingers relaxing their grip on the blanket noticeably. Kirk was whispering something to the sleeping boy, but his words were too low for Chapel to hear.

* * *

Kirk's dreams were usually wisps of memory and fog; so brief and fleeting he woke with a feeling of disquiet and disappointment. With his head resting on the edge of Spock's bed he dreamed. Swirls of color, fear, pain and sorrow. He dreamed of shackles and cages, of beatings and blood. He dreamed of too many faces, he dreamed of skin, sweat, and stench. He dreamed, he dreamed, he woke.

His cheek was pressed against the mattress, with tiny fingers gripping his hair. They tightened. A string of Vulcan words slurred together by sleep and medication filled the silence.

Kirk didn't dare lift his head lest he break Spock's fragile grip, but he shifted slightly and raised his eyes. Spock stared down at him with eyes too wise, breathing too hard. The beep beep _beep_ of the vital-monitor was too loud, too fast.

Spock's soul brown eyes mapped every inch of Kirk's face. His fingers drifted through his hair to rest against his temple.

There were a million things Kirk wanted to say in that moment. _I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Sorry I couldn't find you fast enough, sorry I don't know how to turn you back to normal. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, I'm sorry you cried, I'm sorry that bastard touched you. I'm sorryi'msorryi'msorry. _

But his throat was pressed too tightly for anything more than a whisper to escape. Kirk rested a hand to Spock's side instead, feeling the rapid flutter of his heart against shaking fingertips. Still beating. Still strong.

_Still alive. _

Alive. Spock was _alive. _And warm, _burning,_ eyes bright and fevered, murmuring Kirk's name under his breath; fingers at his temples, mind brushing _just close enough…_

Tiny, fragile arms cradled him as Kirk crumbled, a mountain of strength falling apart piece by piece into the embrace of a child. Days of desperation, of terror, of anger, pain, and hate melted away to sadness.

Relief. Hope.

_Healing. _

Spock sighed into the captain's hair.

_You're home. You're safe. _

_Yes. _

Kirk breathed him in, not quite crying, but so so close. His head rested against Spock's small chest, hand still pressed to his heart. Tiny fingers swept through sandy hair. The child's mind was a pool of mist and comfort.

_to be continued_

_

* * *

_

a/n: sorry this took so long to be posted! thanks to everyone who reviewed. Happy Holidays!


	5. Bang

**Title: **Pity the Children

**Author: **xiaou-xijiang

**Warnings: **violence against children, mentions of rape, slavery, language

**Summary: **The sale of children is a booming business within the darkest corners of the galaxy. How will Kirk cope when the victim is one of his own? deaged!Spock, pre-K/S. Response to a prompt on lj.

**Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters are not mine.

* * *

**Part Five: Bang**

Sulu felt like his skin was crawling. Sixteen hours filtering back and forth between the Auction House and the stench of depravity and sickness was starting to sink into his pores. He nodded back to his team, all looking just as weary as he. _Can't take much more of this, _he thought, straightening his shoulders and pressing the pass code into the keypad.

The last room to be searched: the Auctioneer's personal quarters, the devil's playground. Sulu kept his phaser at ready, cautiously stepping forward. His team easily and silently flanked him, two covering his side, and one at his back.

The room was terrifyingly _normal. _There were several blue orbs floating high on the ceiling, pulsing gently and giving the room a calming blue tint. It was surprisingly immaculate, no dust and no clutter. Lt. Kelsey whistled as the closet slid open.

Suit jackets, vests, and pants lined the compartment; impeccably shined shoes lined the floor.

"Jeez," she whispered incredulously as she ran her scanner along the edges of the walls. Ensign Carys slid into the bathroom, tight faced and tense. Sulu stepped deeper into the sleeping quarters. Tasteful art hung on the walls, from a variety of planets in the quadrant.

Sulu's lip curled instinctively at the sight of the bed. It was a wide double, with a soft blue coverlet stacked with pillows and cushions. It looked comfortable, inviting. He scanned it. Clean.

_The sick fuck knows how to clean up after himself. _Sulu refused to think of what "guests" the bed had welcomed. He kept the scanner running as he examined the bookcase. He had classics in his collection, actual printed classics: Milton, Melville, Dante, Twain, Ovid, Plato. Sulu couldn't help but feel a prickle of surprise. He opened a copy of _Paradise Lost_, and flipped through it. The smell of old paper and ink rose from the pages. The binding was well worn, probably one of his favorite reads. The man was obviously educated, smart, and meticulous…

"Who knew he was capable of doing something like this? And _why?_" Sulu wondered aloud placing the book back on the shelf. He scanned each book with his scanner, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Lt. Sulu!" Kelsey called. Sulu armed his phaser and moved swiftly back to the living area. Ensign Carys and Tillman were already there, flanking Kelsey's sides as she worked furiously at a keypad hidden behind the Auctioneer's clothes. She threw him a triumphant smile over her shoulder. "Bastard probably thought he was clever hiding it in here. He's got a triple encoded pass-lock on it connected directly to his genetic make up."

Sulu groaned. "How long?"

She looked offended. "What do you take me for?" Kelsey pulled out a sonic disrupter, small enough to fit easily in the palm of her hand. "Give me ten minutes."

Sulu smiled at her back impressed. He turned his attention to the two ensigns. "Anything?"

The Lieutenant's communicator interrupted Carys; it beeped urgently for him to answer. Sulu signaled for him to wait, and flipped it open.

"Sulu here."

"Lt. Ramand. Important information from the Captain. Permission to beam down?"

"All clear for you, Lieutenant." Sulu closed his communicator at the familiar sound of matter energizing to the far side of the room.

Ramand gave Sulu a quick salute, looking faintly green. _He never could get used to that thing…_

"Captain wants to expand the search to include any drugs or suspicious pharmaceuticals. Everything needs to be bagged and transported aboard ASAP to Medical."

Sulu nodded to the ensigns at Kelsey's side. "You two, meet Group B and C, they're still investigating the basement. We'll meet at the rendezvous point in an hour." He pointed to them both. "Find _anything_ contact me, got it?"

They nodded, leaving quickly. Ramand stood before him, back rigid. He looked mildly disgusted and extremely tense, as if just by breathing the air in the Auctioneer's personal quarters he'd be infected. He noticed Sulu's quiet regard and answered his unspoken question. "The Captain told me to defer to you for orders, lieutenant."

"Damn, I'm good!" Kelsey crowed from the closet. Ramand's shoulder's tensed at the unexpected shout. Sulu jerked his thumb in her direction. "Could always use another pair of eyes."

Kelsey paid the men no mind as she mumbled to herself. "Just have to press this code in…" she slowly pressed three buttons. They lit dark blue before darkening. The lieutenant fit her palm to the scanner, heedless of Sulu drawing his phaser behind her.

The entire back wall of the closet slid apart. A door.

"Another room," Kelsey whispered stepping back and drawing her phaser. The doorway was pitch black, the emptiness twisted in on its self, beckoning them.

Sulu could only imagine what was in that room. He didn't want to sink deeper into the Auctioneer's depraved mind than he already had. He'll be having nightmares for months.

_But this is what we have to do._

"On stun," he said, switching the settings of his phaser and hearing his team do the same.

Sulu stepped forward, Kelsey and Ramand pushed after him. "Stay close," he ordered The combined warmth of the officers at his back comforted him. He pressed on into the mysterious room.

Darkness, he was blind. His foot met air.

"Back!" Kelsey caught him under his arms. "Stairs," he whispered. She was close enough for him to feel her nod against his shoulders. Ramand exhaled loudly at his elbow.

He stepped down carefully. His boot hit the stair. And the next one, and the next. Kelsey kept close to his back; Ramand took the rear. Sulu hit the landing and kept walking until he bumped into something sturdy. A desk?

"I think I found a switch!" Ramand called quietly seconds before light flooded the room.

Illumination.

Horror.

Sulu leapt back away from the table as if burned, right into a startled Kelsey. Ramand stood frozen by the wall, hand still lifted to the sensors.

Kelsey's gasp tickled the hairs on the back of Sulu's neck.

"_Oh, __**Jesus**__._"

* * *

McCoy startled awake at a touch on his arm. Nurse Chapel pulled her hand back smoothly. "Doctor," she began, eyes flicking noticeably to the chronometer. McCoy planted his elbows on the desk and sank his chin into the cradle of his hands.

"That time, is it?" McCoy's voice was hoarse even to his own ears. He rubbed his eyes to cover his own wince.

Nurse Chapel's mouth twisted in concern. "Perhaps you should sit out this shift. You look—" _Like hell. _She was too kind to actually say it, but damn if she wasn't thinking it.

McCoy chuckled humorlessly. "I look like shit, Nurse, you can say it." Chapel looked a bit flustered, but she kept the weary smile on her face.

"And thank you for offering, but no." McCoy stretched, trying to work out the knots in his back. "I've got to pull my weight, just like everyone else." Sleeping in a chair has never been any fun, especially at his age. McCoy scowled at his cup of stone cold coffee. _Damn, what a day. _

He stood, accepting the PADD Chapel handed to him. "What have we got?"

"#39 is stabilized." John Doe 39, boarded unconscious and hemorrhaging from a contusion in his skull. McCoy had been in surgery with #32 at the time, trying to fight a rapidly spreading infection in a young girl without completely amputating her left leg. Jane Doe 32 was in critical condition by the end of his shift; he hadn't had the time to see to #39 at all.

"Jackson headed that one didn't he?" Chapel nodded. McCoy read from his PADD, trusting Chapel to steer him in the right direction.

"Swellings gone down, good. Did he wake?" Chapel put her hand under his elbow and moved him out of the way of an incoming officer. McCoy didn't look up from the PADD.

"Briefly," she answered. "The doctors couldn't understand him."

McCoy cursed. "We'll need some linguistic specialists down here to interview these kids."

Chapel didn't say anything as they reached the med bay. The 'bay was just as hectic as it had been at the end of his shift. Every bed was full, some squeezed together to accommodate the cots that were dragged in. Several low risk patients lay in guests quarters, isolated from the massive hysteria and desperation of the med bay.

_Like Spock. _

McCoy quickly shook that thought away, following Chapel to the offices. Children were crying, screaming. Nurses and surgeons were rushing in circles around one another.

Chapel shut the door, and the following silence was eerie. She pressed more records into his hands.

"As of two hours ago, we've boarded 317 passengers. Of those, 130 are still unidentified. All have been listed as sustaining some injury or illness during their imprisonment. 96 have been treated for life threatening injuries, 48 are still in critical condition." She winced. "We've had five deaths. Bodies unidentified."

McCoy dropped the PADD on the desk and ran a hand through his hair. "Put them in the cryogenics room. It'll be a while before I can perform any autopsies."

"Already done sir," Chapel answered. She paused before asking tentatively, "Sir?"

"Hm?"

"Has there been any change in Mr. Spock's condition?"

McCoy finally turned his full attention on her, eyes knowing and sympathetic.

"I'm still waiting to hear back from the landing party with any findings. Until I get an inkling of whatever he was poisoned with, I can't do much."

At her crestfallen look, he felt obligated to add: "I'm going to examine him again after he's gotten some rest." Chapel nodded, eyes unfocused and thoughtful.

"Speaking of rest," he needled. "When was the last time you took a breather?"

Chapel looked startled. "Me?" She thought. "Two shifts, I suppose."

She saw the look on his face and rushed on. "But I haven't been tired at all sir. I…I can't stop now. If I do I'll start thinking, and this—" she gestured to the med-bay outside the door. "This _scares _me. It's just so..." she stopped, at a loss of words, making a helpless gesture with her hands.

McCoy nodded. "I understand. Its enough to drive you crazy." Unbidden, Joanna's face came to mind. His baby girl, all round faced, smiling, and gorgeous. Nausea churned in his gut and he pushed her memory safely away.

_I can't think about her. Not here. Not __**now. **_

Chapel was still looking at him with that imploring look on her face. He steeled his resolve. "But you're head nurse, I need you at your best. I can't have you exhausted and falling asleep on your feet can I?"

Chapel looked worried, but she shook her head. Bones raised two fingers. "Two hours. Rest. Eat something. Drink water. Then you can get back to work."

She nodded and dropped the vid-chips back into their pile on his desk. McCoy settled into his chair, determined not to let the horrors beyond his office doors taint the memories of his daughter. The nurse made a snuffling noise at the door. "Doctor, if you hear…any news on his condition—"

McCoy shook his head. "You know that information is privileged, Nurse Chapel. But I'll be sure to let him know that you send your regards."

Chapel nodded and slipped out the door.

McCoy groaned as he stared down at the medical reports on his desk. _Five dead. Countless critical. Spock's condition still undetermined. What a goddamn day. _

It was half an hour later before McCoy finally pulled himself away from his desk, PADD and tricorder in each hand; ready to make a thorough and complete examination of Mr. Spock. Sulu may not have gotten back yet with any drugs for him to test, but he'd be damned if he didn't make himself useful.

_Certainly Kirk might have calmed him down a little bit._ McCoy paused at Spock's door long enough to push in the medical override to Spock's quarters. He stepped inside, only to stop dead at the sight of a phaser aimed for his forehead.

_Well damn._

_to be continued.  
_

_

* * *

_a/n - thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, c2'd, or alerted this fic. And thanks always to anyone who reads. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

-xiaou


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